Lack of Ice
by FieryStars
Summary: John twists his ankle buying Sherlock's groceries. Please review!


John? Why haven't you brought the groceries back yet? –SH

I'm having some problems. Give me a few more minutes. –JW

Well hurry up, nothing could be more problematic than not having the supplies I need for this experiment. –SH

I tripped over a curb and twisted my ankle. I just need a few extra minutes for the walk. You will be fine. –JW

Oh heavens, why did you go and do that? I was going out for a case tonight, I needed your help. –SH

Can you do one case this week by yourself? I think I need a hot bath and an ice pack. –JW

It's not the same… I need an assistant. But I suppose it would be best if you just stayed home. –SH

I could take my skull... –SH

Mrs. Hudson threatened to take it away if you left the flat with it again. –JW

You could always text me –JW

Mrs. Hudson take my skull? She wouldn't dare, would she? Yes, texting or Skype. –SH

Plug my laptop into the charger and we can Skype. –JW

It's on the other side of the living room. –SH

Do you want help tonight or not? –JW

Ugh, all right, I've plugged it in. –SH

Thank you. I'll be back in just a moment. –JW

Good. –SH

John walked to the door of the flat, a slight limp and a pained expression on his face evident. As he unlocked the door, and began to walk up the stairs he found himself annoyed at the amount of groceries that Sherlock needed for his next experiment.

"Sherlock," he called into the flat. "I'm back. Here are your things."

Sherlock got up from the couch this time and helped John with the groceries. "Ah, I see you didn't forget the pig feet. Good."

"How could I forget the pig feet," John mumbled to himself, flopping down on a chair. John rested his head on the back of it, closed his eyes, and let out a long breath.

Sherlock looked at him. "How is your ankle?" He asked, looking slightly concerned (for Sherlock, anyway).

John shrugged. "Not bad, but certainly not good either."

He reached down and pulled off his shoe, wincing as his injured ankle was moved. As he pulled off his sock, he could already make out the black and blue marks on his skin.

"Wonderful," He groaned.

Sherlock went into the kitchen to find the ice. He opened the freezer. Inside it was yesterdays experiment, human hands, but no ice. He looked at the dish drain and sighed. No one had filled the ice trays and put them back in the freezer.

In the back of Sherlock's mind, he remembered that all the ice had been put into the bags with the hands, which was done by him. But he dismissed the thought.

John noticed that Sherlock had been in the kitchen a while. "Did you find any ice? If not I think I will go take a hot bath.

"Um, the ice isn't frozen all the way yet," Sherlock called as he turned on the sink.

"How long has it been in the freezer for?" John asked as he took off his other shoe and sock, and began to discard his coat.

"I'm not sure…" He quietly opened the freezer and set the ice trays in.

John hobbled out to the kitchen to see Sherlock setting the ice trays in the freezer, next to a bag filled with ice and human hands.

"For crying out loud, Sherlock, can't we ever have anything that isn't ruined by you experiments?"

Sherlock turned around. "You could have refilled the trays with more water yesterday. And I do not ruin everything with my experiments," he replied, sourly.

John glared at him. "I filled the trays once yesterday, there is no reason they should need to be filled twice. Unless, of course, you have another incredibly important experiment." His voice was filled to the brim with sarcasm. He turned from the kitchen and limped into the bathroom, turning on the water in the tub.

Sherlock sighed. "Well, I suppose it was perhaps partly my fault for not telling you about the trays that you then could have filled up a second time…"

"Or you could have filled them up yourself after you used all of them." John sat on the lid of the toilet and began to shed his jumper and shirt.

"Well…I was…busy with the experiment," Sherlock hedged.

John sighed. "Whatever you say Sherlock. Just remember to fill them up next time."

He was tired of fighting already. Exhausted from his trip to the store.

As Sherlock left the room John could swear he heard him say, "Sorry, John."

As John heard this, he felt odd. Sherlock never apologized. It wasn't like him. Maybe he was hearing things.

After John was done with the long bath, he opened the shower curtain to find a new set of clothes and a small bag of ice from the ice machine down two blocks from Baker Street.

John immediately felt bad. He had been so rude to Sherlock. He dressed and grabbed a cloth to wrap the ice in and walked back to the front room. Sherlock was sitting in his chair reading.

John sighed. "Look, I shouldn't have been-"

"It's okay," Sherlock interrupted.

"I really do mean-"

"John." Sherlock looked up from the book. "It's okay."

John smiled exasperatedly. "You always keep me from saying what needs to be said."

Sherlock smirked. "Oh, I disagree. It was completely unnecessary."

John sat down on the couch with the newspaper and his cloth of ice. Just when Sherlock had gone back to his book John quickly blurted out, "Sorry!"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes and then smiled. John went back to the newspaper and raised an eyebrow. "If it needs to be said, I'll say it."

Sherlock rolled his eyes and went back to the book, smiling to himself. He didn't want to admit that John's determination was one of the best things about him.

The next afternoon, John came in to the kitchen to find Sherlock experimenting with the human hands. He opened the freezer and saw the pig feet in bags of ice.

He had almost closed the door when the full trays of solidifying ice cubes caught his eyes.

Sherlock looked up to find John smiling at the freezer. He couldn't help but smile himself.


End file.
